Masquerade
by Coofis
Summary: He was not one to smile, and the rare times happiness would find his features were few. But there was more to him than his cold exterior. Those around him had a vague conception of his past...but how could they understand the depths of his turmoil? His mate and comrades may use a time machine to do just that.


Masquerade »

Summary: He was not one to smile, and the rare times happiness would find his features were few. But there was more to him than his cold exterior. Those around him had a vague conception of his past...but how could they understand the depths of his turmoil? His mate and comrades may use a time machine to do just that.

**A/N - This is going to be a fanfic about Vegeta's past, and more specifically my own twist on the Bulma-and-crew-travel-into-the-past-to-see-what-Vegeta-had-to-go-through plot. I know it's not very original. But I've seen several like this and I could not help wanting to create my own version. **

_**Note:**__ This fanfiction begins during a Capsule Corporation masquerade party, and the masks of the Z Fighters have special meanings that will be explained at the end of the chapter for all who are interested. __This fanfic is going to start a little bit slow, but please be patient. All of this has relevance later on. For now, sit back, relax, and read like crazy. It's good for you._

* * *

The echoing chamber was dimly lit with the honeyed auras of candle flames, each flickering pyramid of light emitting the arousing scent of cinnamon into the air. It was a homey aroma that was normally associated with quiet family meals and pleasant yet tranquil company by the fireside.

But tonight, the elegant ballroom rented exclusively by Capsule Corporation and certain special acquaintances was the farthest thing from tranquil.

On the richly-decorated invitation cards which had been distributed on a grand scale to not only close business partners but also even closer friends, the ball which was to take place was specified to be a "Victorian Masquerade Ball."

Already the room was brimming with laughter and million-watt smiles. The resonating bass of fancily-clad men harmonized beautifully with the chirpy soprano of equally fancily-clad women.

Men were garbed in simply striking tuxedos complete with the elaborate flair of the Victorian Era, the seductive black accented by an ocean of white frills. Some of the bravest males even featured the delicate crimson folds of a rose within their lapels.

Women were more varied in their outfits, each sea of glimmering fabric sporting a different color with a vast arrangement of exotic patterns dancing along the rippling folds. Some, in feminine acts of boldness akin to the men, donned stylish hats to accompany their intricate dresses.

But the most intriguing addition in which all of the guests shared a common bond was the glittery mask each man and woman wore. Some resembled certain animals, and masks which were fashioned to appear as creatures of flight had an array of feathers attached. Others were merely abstract designs that were enthralling to look at yet not as interesting as those with purpose.

In one corner of the room, which highlighted spotless tables laden with all sorts of tasty morsels purposed to be for light consumption, a very different cluster of people loomed. Their masks had been personally designed by the once-heiress, now C.E.O of Capsule Corporation, Bulma Briefs.

Many a nosy invitee of the Ball was excessively curious about the small collection of colleagues that the female scientist seemed to spend most of her time with. As of yet, the only thing that could be deduced from a distance was the eccentric taste in hairstyles that several of them seemed to have.

One tall, muscular man (the latter observation was duly noted by the women in attendance) with a lush crop of wild black hair wore a mask of a baby-yellow shade, its shape reminiscent of a puffy cloud. He was outfitted in a tan tuxedo with a suspicious glimpse of orange peeking out beneath the hem of his pants.

A dark-haired female was close by his side, garbed in a traditional Chinese kimono. Her mask was a lovely lilac color and featured onyx feathers along the sides in the representation of a raven.

There was a young teen with a sprout of ebony hair whose mask was in the circular shape of a helmet, tinged with orange and complete with a black visor. He was chatting in low tones to a black-haired female accomplice.

The female's blue eyes watched him from behind her chocolate brown mask, which was outfitted with an assortment of spotted hawk feathers.

Another somewhat shorter man bore some muscle mass that could not be compared to the quantity of the first male, but still existed nonetheless. His mask was furred and possessed ears that very closely resembled the kind that a wolf has, and the slightest evidence of a scar running across his cheek protruded beneath it.

One youthful boy boasting a fountain of lavender tresses upon his head wore a scarlet mask, its curvatures sinister and complimented by twin devil horns protruding from it in wicked-looking cones. His sparkling blue eyes blinked from behind the eyeholes as he commenced a careful study of a platter of cucumber sandwiches.

A boy around the same height as his mauve-haired friend sported a mass of thick black hair cascading down his back. It had once defied gravity in the same way as the man with the cloud-shaped mask's hair did, but through the years it had changed into an even more unruly hairstyle. The mask he wore was identical to that of his partner in crime's mask, except that it was of a maroon shade.

A very young child, her aquamarine coils splashing down her shoulders, busied herself with the exquisite flower arrangement which was flanked by a plate of deviled eggs and a tower of cupcakes. Her mask was a bright array of different pink shades and was molded to look like the fluttery wings of a butterfly.

A rather short midget-sized man, fiddling self-consciously with the collar of his tux, donned a silver circular mask that was patterned to look like a replica of the moon. It conveniently hid the dark blush coating his cheeks as he felt the mirthful eyes of all of his closest friends on him, evidently recalling the humorous incident which now resulted in this mask.

He was clutching the hand of a tall, slender blonde with piercing ice-blue eyes who proudly wore a mask with glittery magenta swirls creating an intriguing pattern. In the center of it was the crimson Red Ribbon Army insignia.

But there were two very important people missing from the gathering.

...

"No."

Within the seculsion of a smaller room a flight of steps away from the ballroom, those two very important people were engaged in an all-too-common argument. For one of the participants, it was a desperate stand for freedom. For the other, it was a desperate plea to join her in what she considered fun.

"But Vegeta..."

"No! I have sacrificed hours of valuable training. I have somehow gotten into these ridiculous Earth clothes. But _this_ - this is one step _too far,_ woman!"

The object which was the source of his antagonism happened to be an attribute of formal wear which he had never been keen on. It was something that his wife referred to as a "tie," and it certainly did not look comfortable nor safe. Anything which forced a constricting hold around his neck was not a good thing. And besides, it seemed to be quite a frivolous and pointless practice to dangle a triangular piece of cloth from his neck anyways.

"Come on, Vegeta. It's only a tie. What's so wrong with it?" Bulma inquired, her sapphire irises blinking at him in interest.

"It's humiliating, that's what's wrong with it!" Vegeta replied sharply.

"Goku is wearing a tie." Bulma pointed out, thinking herself to be sly.

"Well, Kakarrot is brainless for doing so." The Prince retorted almost instantly.

Releasing a pent-up sigh, Bulma folded her hands on her hips. "Fine. If you don't want to wear the stupid tie, then don't wear the stupid tie."

The flame-haired warrior blinked twice, surprised that his normally fiesty mate had not put up more of a fight. He did not want to risk ruining his luck, however, and quickly recovered his composure, not entirely anticipating what came next.

"But I do insist that you wear the mask I had specially made for you."

Vegeta winced slightly in an almost unnoticeable gesture before his features hardened into stern resolve. "Woman, _no!"_

"Come _on,_ Vegeta! This is a Masquerade party! Everyone's expected to wear one!"

"But it's ridiculous! What kind of fools would parade around wearing idiotic masks and an extinct style of dress all night long?" Vegeta protested.

"Ve-" Bulma began, before she was interrupted by the irksome jingle of her cell phone as it played its jarring melody through the room.

Suppressing a sigh, she pressed it to her ear.

"Hello?"

_"Bulma, where are you two? We're all waiting for you!"_

"Oh hi, Yamcha. Do you like the mask I had manufactured for you?"

_"Yeah, I like the analogy to my Wolf Fang Fist. But seriously, we're waiting!"_

"Mm hmm, I know. We'll be down there in a sec," she answered curtly.

_"You'd better hurry. Goku is eyeing the popcorn shrimp."_

"That doesn't sound good. We'll be down soon."

_"Okay, bye."_

"Bye."

Shooting a pointed glance at her mate, Bulma carefully picked up her own sky-blue mask lying on the table. It was clearly a masterpiece, inlaid with real diamonds and sapphires, and it was in the delicate shape of a tiara.

A burst of pride erupted within Vegeta at the sight. He knew the meaning behind the mask of his wife's choosing. She had meant it to signify her place as a royal at the Prince's side.

She was honoring his heritage as the Prince of All Saiyans with this small token.

Gently placing it upon her face, Bulma took a moment to brush her fingers along its angled contours. A small smile graced her features as she did so.

"I never showed you your mask, did I?"

Her voice jarred him out of his reflections. His curiosity was piqued at her words.

The smile ever present on her face, the now aging scientist whisked something from beneath the damask tablecloth upon one of the circular tables. Upon seeing the immaculate work of art before him, all of the Prince's words died on his tongue.

Its golden surface was designed to look like a crown, and a plethora of rubies and diamonds studded it in a twinkling pattern. Feathers jutted out from both sides, dyed a rich crimson and arranged in a fiery pattern that swept upwards, creating a dazzling effect. They were the perfect touch to accent the crown.

At a loss for words, the Saiyan simply gawked.

"Well? Is it fit for the Prince of All Saiyans?" His mate queried, her eyes sparkling.

A haughty smirk tumbled onto his features as his ego flared, and suddenly he was rather partial to the idea of displaying his royal lineage for all to see.

...

The musical voice of the successor to Capsule Corporation's weath alerted everyone to her arrival. Everyone turned toward the sound of her amiable call.

"The party has arrived!" Bulma announced merrily, beaming from ear to ear.

Her presence was dainty yet headstrong, and she added a refined touch to the extravagant ballroom with her pearly smile and jovial blue eyes.

But what attracted most of the attendees' attention was the man standing stoically beside her, a neutral expression on his face that was laced with the barest hint of a superior smirk. His mask was enthralling with just a touch of foreboding, and the glittering colors suited his swept-up hairstyle perfectly.

Goku lifted his nose out of a cup of frothy scarlet punch and cracked a wide grin at the sight of the couple descending the stairway. His cloud-analogous mask bobbed slightly at the movement. "Hi Bulma! Hi Vegeta!"

If the dark smile on the older Saiyan's face had been barely noticeable before, now it had blossomed into a full-blown smirk. He offered a curt nod in the direction of his old rival and then rasped, "Flying Nimbus, Kakarrot?"

Goku was momentarily confused before he realized what Vegeta meant. "Oh, you mean my mask? Yeah. Bulma did a good job."

The conversation did not have a chance to develop further, as a shrill exclamation of joy sounded from where a potted rose rested on the snack table. In mere seconds, little Bra had lunged toward her father and was now firmly attached to his left pants leg, beaming up at him with a toothy smile.

"Daddy, look! I'm a butterfly!" Bra squealed excitedly.

"So I see," the Prince replied, unable to keep the fondness out of his voice yet still feeling uncomfortable with the concept of showing affection in public.

"I like your mask a lot, Daddy," his daughter commented, taking on a studious expression as she studied it intensely before pronouncing her verdict of approval.

"Yo, Dad."

Vegeta looked up and his smirk stretched wider upon seeing his son. "The mask. It fits your personality well."

Tugging on one devil horn with a sheepish grin, Trunks nodded. "Yeah."

"I like yours, Vegeta. I think it's the most lavish one out of all of ours," the unmistakable kindly voice of Gohan Son sounded nearby.

The Saiyan Prince noticed that several admirers were beginning to cluster around him, in awe of his mask. He began to feel a bit claustrophobic.

Chi-Chi, with the black feathers flanking her mask jiggling slightly, cast a wary eye toward him. She had never been particularly fond of the Prince; he had attempted to kill her husband and son and had threatened them more than once, after all.

Casting his gaze toward his wife, who was currently being swamped with business associates who seemed to have a bucketload of questions concerning the man who accompanied her down the stairs, Vegeta sighed almost inaudibly. He was not keen on any sort of situation in which he was forced to interact in a friendly manner with any humans besides the warriors who completed the Z Gang.

"He's my husband, Vegeta," Bulma was explaining for the umpteenth time. Apparently the tabloids had been spreading conflicting rumors, and many people were still in the dark.

"Hey, Vegeta!" The telltale voice of his ex-enemy sounded in his ear.

"What, Kakarrot?" He hissed between his teeth, sending a subdued death glare toward an approaching journalist.

"You look stressed. Wanna get some food?" Goku responded cheerily.

Vegeta shrugged indifferently, but in truth he was glad for the offered escape route. The two ex-rivals, now friends, slipped through the crowd toward the tastefully-decorated tables, which were about to experience the wrath of two starving Saiyans.

The first defense line hit was the assortment of miniature spring rolls. Vegeta opted for the more dignified approach and rapidly inhaled each of his selections one by one. Goku, on the other hand, made a bold move by popping several fried treats into his eager mouth at the same time. Some tuxedo-clad men shot disgusted glances in the warriors' direction, but they went unheeded.

"Yes, he is my husband and_ oh dear!_ I'd better go talk to them," Bulma apologized quickly to a trio of her company's long-term business partners awkwardly, before marching toward the tables with a determined scowl on her face.

"Vegeta! Goku!" She hissed venomously. "The spring rolls are not just for you!"

Both guilty criminals glanced up from their feast in alarm.

With a devilish expression on his face, the Prince promptly extended his hand toward a nearby plate of popcorn shrimp. "Fine then. We'll just have these instead."

"No! _None_ of the items here are solely for you to devour! _Behave!"_ Bulma insisted.

Yamcha, scratching absentmindedly at his itchy wolf mask, raised a bushy eyebrow at the spectacle. "Saiyans will be Saiyans," he muttered good-naturedly.

Goten, meanwhile, was attempting to sneak a tasty tidbit from the miscellany of victuals opposite the rampaging Bulma. It was normally Trunks who took the initiative in the heinous schemes that the two concocted in their younger days, but this time, the rambunctious member of the Son clan acted alone. Trunks did not want to risk getting on his mother's bad side, which was perfectly reasonable.

No one wanted to risk getting on Bulma's bad side, and those who tried it were in for a very tough time. There were only two people who would dare chance a confrontation: the two bravest and strongest warriors in the universe, Vegeta and Goku. There were some exceptions to this depending on what the scientist's mood happened to be at any given moment, but when it came to tonight, something was making the two Saiyans feel more reckless than usual.

That recklessness must have rubbed off slightly onto Goten.

Reluctantly, Goku stepped away from the food, and after a tension-laced moment of opposition Vegeta followed suit.

Everyone's attention was suddenly diverted by the sound of a knife clinking against a wine glass with a metallic _ping._

Yamcha was now standing on a chair, a serene smile on his face.

"Ladies and gents, I'm sure we all are aware of the real reason for this Capsule Corporation bash." His features lit up in a grin. "It's Bulma's birthday!"

Hollers and congratulations resounded throughout the room.

Tapping once again on his glass for order, Yamcha continued, "I've been a friend of Bulma for years, and there are several others here who have been comrades of hers since the early days. So I, as well as her other close friends, have all agreed to make short speeches about how great she is. Not that her ego needs another boost, but whatever."

Smiles and sprinkles of laughter followed.

"I'll go ahead and start." Yamcha cleared his throat.

Vegeta instantly felt a sense of alarm. He had not been given the memo. Of course, he could understand the other fighters' reasoning; they did not expect him to stand in front of a large group of people and openly proclaim his love for Bulma in a sentimental way. Still, he cocked an eyebrow as he listened.

"Bulma and I have had many adventures together. You wouldn't believe all of the different things we've gone through, actually."

_Ain't that the truth,_ all of the Z Gang members mused ruefully.

"We were an item many years ago. The two of us had quite the rocky love-life, that's for sure." Yamcha could not stop himself from inserting a fragment of sadness into his voice, but disguised it with a gentle smile.

Vegeta growled beneath his breath at the words.

"But she's with another man now, and as long as she's happy, I'm happy."

Nods of approval rippled throughout the group, and the scar-faced warrior's smile grew wider. "Wishing you a Happy Birthday and many more! To Bulma!" Yamcha raised his glass in salute and hopped off of the cushioned seat.

It was Krillin's turn next. He chuckled nervously and then launched into his speech.

"Well, Bulma, it's hard to know what to say. I mean, I've known you for most of my life, and you're a dear friend. Looking back, I don't think I'd change a single thing." He beamed his patented grin.

_Maybe you'd like to change how many times you've died,_ Vegeta snickered mentally.

"It's been a long, long road. There have been so many changes, both big and small. I'm just here to say thank you...for everything. Cheers!" He finished proudly.

Goku wanted to have his turn, and the spotlight was on him.

"Bulma, I met you when I was just a little boy. Ever since then, with everything that's happened, you've become a great friend of mine, and I know that my wife appreciates your friendship, too. In fact, my whole family does. Your scientific knowledge has helped us in big ways to tackle all of the opposition we've faced, and I'm grateful." His features brightened into the goofy Son grin, and he waved bashfully as he stepped down from the chair.

Trunks stepped up, smirking in a way eerily similar to his father.

"Mom, you're weird. In an awesome way. Our family is so unique, yet we all somehow manage to make it work. You've played a big role in that, I have to say. If it weren't for you, I think the house would explode." His smirk grew cheeky.

_The rest of the crowd has no idea how literal that is,_ Vegeta thought sinisterly.

"Now that you're grooming me for the throne so to speak, and I'm working harder than ever in your company, I just wanted to say that a salary raise would be really nice, since I'm your son and all. Thanks." Tipping an imaginary hat, the youth stepped down from his place of momentary glory.

Bulma rolled her eyes at Trunks, and he adopted a crestfallen expression.

Just then, the grandfather clock lying in one cobweb-infested corner of the room tolled its deep, cautionary warning. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

"Well, the clock strikes twelve. I'm afraid the party's over, folks," Bulma announced cheerily, and everyone busied themselves with collecting their belongings.

The only ones who had not left yet were Bulma's dearest friends.

"If you want, you guys can spend the night at Capsule Corp. with us," Bulma offered cordially. "I wouldn't want any of you to have to fly to your respective homes this late at night."

Bulma's invitation was accepted, and with the help of Goku's Instant Transmission, it only took a couple of seconds for everyone to be transported from the ballroom to Capsule Corporation. Mr. and Mrs. Briefs were certainly surprised when a rowdy group of people appeared in front of them in the living room.

It took much longer than a couple of seconds for everyone to be settled, but soon the entirety of the compound was cloaked in darkness and silence.

...

_He found himself treading along an obscure, winding forest trail. Thick, spindly trees hemmed him in on every side, and each footfall seemed to echo infinitely into space. The night sky stretched onwards in an obsidian eternity, interrupted only by twinkling pinpricks of light which vaguely resembled stars. _

_He was alone, and yet the feeling did not bother him. No sounds peppered the monotony of the atmosphere with variety, and he was perfectly at ease. He was inclined to be a solitary creature and much preferred the assurance of his own company with few others to invade into his personal life and motives. _

_And yet there was a negative side to being constantly in the companionship of himself with no one else. Sometimes, in the solitude of his own reflections, an eruption of bitter memories would emerge. They were memories so sharp with pain and images of brutality and bloodshed that he was forced to seek the company of someone else. Anything to stop his mind from wandering into the darker, more devious annals of his past._

_He was now so caught up in his thoughts that he had not noticed the drastic change in scenery. Beneath his white boots were tufts of sapphire-tinged grass, and like an emerald canopy above his head the skies of Planet Namek cloaked his surroundings in a soft green light._

_A minute slipped away from him before he realized where he was. Instantly, a scowl slashed across his features and he clenched his fists. It was his instinct to do so, engraved into his brain by the harsh tyrant who had imposed his rule over him during his childhood and who had destroyed Vegetasei._

_Frieza._

_A wave of resentment crashed over him, and a flurry of other emotions coursed through his veins for the better portion of a minute before he forced them into the depths of his subconscious bitterly. _

_Suddenly, a vicious web of lightning streaked across the sky, turning the scattered clouds into fractured shards separated by branches of radiance. Thick and ominous blackness descended rapidly upon the land, and Vegeta immediately thought that perhaps Porunga was the culprit. _

_His theory proved to be correct as a magnificent golden trail coiled through the atmosphere, solidifying into the robust green body of the Namekian Eternal Dragon. His penetrating bass rumbled in a foreboding monotone._

_At first, he could not make out exactly what the Dragon was saying. But a gradual crescendo soon marked the words in resounding clarity._

_"Beware of the mask. Beware of the mask. Beware of the mask. Beware of the..."_

_Vegeta reeled backwards in confusion and anticipation for whatever the "mask" was._

_To the Prince's surprise, the Dragon's unforgettable voice faded along with his body, which was surprisingly muscular for a creature such as him. Namek itself, with its scattering of trees and the occasional village, receded into complete nothingness._

_Beads of sweat appeared on the Saiyan's forehead as he waited._

_He became aware of a miniscule glittering speck in the distance. It seemed to be venturing closer and closer to him, its shape becoming more and more defined._

_It was a white mask. Its curves were very plain and there was no decoration to be found upon it._

_Vegeta resisted the urge to laugh at the sight. This was what the Dragon had so ominously warned him about? It was preposterous!_

_**"Don't laugh at me, monkey prince."**_

_The Saiyan's eyes widened in shock before hardening into hatred. _

_The voice, which seemed to originate from the mask itself, was Frieza's voice._

_**"Ah, I see you recognize me, monkey prince."**_

_"Don't call me that, fool," Vegeta growled through clenched teeth._

_**"I will call you what I want to, monkey prince. You cannot kill me."**_

_"Of course I can't. My future son already took care of it for me." Vegeta spat._

_**"Oh, poor monkey! You were too weak to preserve your own life, and so someone else had to carry out your revenge for you."**_

_"Hah! Weak? And this is coming from a coward I have the power to kill with my pinkie finger," the Prince scoffed in answer. _

_**"You can't kill me. You can't get rid of me. I will always be here."**_

_"Where?" Vegeta prompted haughtily._

_**"In your head, monkey prince. Didn't you know I was here?"**_

_"If I did know, I didn't care then, and I don't care now. You don't scare me, Frieza."_

_**"Oh, but I do scare you. You know it just as well as I do that my grip on you did not end with my death, monkey prince."**_

_"If you call me that name one more time, I'll-" Vegeta snarled dangerously._

_**"You'll what? Punch me? Blast me? Go Super Saiyan? It won't do a thing."**_

_"Get out of my head, freak."_

_**"No. I'll never go. You might as well get used to me. I'm here to stay."**_

_"What, did King Yemma give you authorization to make my life miserable even after Trunks turned you into cold cuts?"_

_**"Since when does this have anything to do with that buffoon?"**_

_"You know what? I'm through. Go ahead and take up residence in my brain. I'm not going to give in. You can't make me suffer any longer. So you might as well get used to it, Frieza." Vegeta retorted smugly._

_**"You'll break. I'll make sure of it."**_

_"Go torment Dodoria for a change, would you? He could certainly use some criticism about his weight," the Prince snorted._

_**"Ah, my little monkey has such a splendid sense of humor!"**_

_"I'd tell you to go die, Frieza, but since a Saiyan already killed you, there's no need." Vegeta turned and walked away carelessly, his senses still on high alert regardless of his relaxed posture._

_Suddenly, he stopped rigidly in his tracks as a piercing scream, sickeningly familiar in its pitch, reached his ears. He whirled around. "Bulma!"_

_The lizard tyrant, in all of his feral glory, stood smirking sadistically as his tail tightened around the neck of none other than Bulma._

_"Well, this is a fine example of déjà vu, isn't it, monkey?" Frieza sneered, lifting up a bloodied fist. "Let's see. I believe it was you in this position before, wasn't it?"_

_Haunting recollections of Vegeta's traumatic experience on Namek rushed at him in an onslaught of graphic images. He visibly cringed._

_"Now how many times did I punch you then, hmm?" Frieza asked innocently, and then suddenly a cruel leer twisted his features into pure malice. "Oh, I'm terrible with numbers. I suppose I'll just have to count them one by one."_

_He drew back his clenched fist, and then sent it thudding into Bulma's spine with a horrific crack. "One."_

_Bulma arched her back in agony, letting loose an anguished scream. Vegeta heard himself gasp slightly._

_Frieza made a tsk-tsk sound with his lips. "Dearie me, she is so fragile. I'm not sure she will last as long as you did." Without warning, he plunged his fist once again into her spinal cord. "Two."_

_Before Bulma had a chance to give full voice to her shriek, Frieza sank his fist into her flesh a third time. "Three." _

_As another scream cut across his senses, Vegeta let loose a roar and lunged toward the icejin, expecting to easily crush Frieza. To his surprise, he was sent hurtling to the ground by a fluid movement of Frieza's free arm. He felt power draining away from him until he was at roughly the same power level as he was on Namek all those years ago. _

_"Bad monkey! You've made me lose my count. I suppose I'll have to begin all over again..." Frieza reprimanded, wagging a finger._

_In horror, Vegeta cried out, "No!"_

_"Always so resistant. You must learn to control those petty emotions of yours, monkey," Frieza scolded, clucking his tongue in disapproval._

_"No! I won't let you hurt her!" The words exploded from within Vegeta so suddenly that he was left momentarily stunned._

_"Oh? Well, all the more entertaining for me, then." Frieza chuckled darkly, raising his fist. "I hope your mate is ready for this one, Vegeta. It's a miracle she's survived for this long."_

_"...One." _

_Vegeta shut his eyes tightly as another sickening snap reverberated throughout the clearing. A scream of pure and utter torture, high-pitched with pain, seemed to slice into his very soul. The Prince's eyes snapped open. _

_"V-Vegeta," Bulma's voice pleaded. "H-Help m-"_

_She was not able to finish her sentence as the plea died on her lips, morphing into an agonized screech punctuated by the sound of snapping bones._

_In that instant, something snapped inside of Vegeta. He felt chi flooding his body again. In his rage, his eyes flickered to teal and his hair began to shimmer like gold. He could faintly hear himself screaming in the background._

_"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"_

...

"Vegeta!" Bulma's eyes were brimming with worry as she called his name.

"Vegeta, wake up! Please!" Goku added his voice, urgently attempting to coax the Prince out of his stupor.

But it was no use. The Saiyan continued to scream, thrashing violently beneath the bedsheets. Everyone in the house had been awakened by Vegeta's heart-wrenching cry, and now all of the Z Fighters were clustered around the disturbed prince, watching the proceedings anxiously from a safe distance.

"He just went Super!" Gohan exclaimed.

"Isn't there anything we can do?" Bulma practically begged anyone and everyone.

"I can try to read his mind like I read Krillin's on Namek. Once I see what he's dreaming about, maybe I can help to snap him out of it," Goku suggested.

"That's brilliant, Goku!" Bulma cried happily.

Goku nodded and slipped through the gathering of onlookers to the bedside, placing his hands upon the Saiyan Prince's head. He immediately gasped in shock at the vision which invaded his senses.

...

_A broken and bloodied Bulma, her body twisted beyond recognition, lay on the ground in an oozing scarlet puddle, whimpering quietly._

_On the other side of the clearing, Vegeta, now transformed into Super Saiyan, was attacking Frieza with every ounce of strength he possessed. Frieza looked like he was dabbling on the brink of death. Blood spurted from multiple deep wounds in his pearly flesh, and his mouth was cut wider than it should be. _

_It took a moment for Goku to realize that words were being exchanged between the two arch-enemies as the fight progressed. He could discern both voices in a heated discussion, and his Saiyan hearing instinctively tuned in._

_**"You're just a stupid monkey. You can't defeat me."**_

_"I'm defeating you right now, fool!"_

_**"In your dreams, monkey prince. None of this is real."**_

_"Frieza, this little skirmish may not be real, but I am defeating you with every breath I take! Every move I make is in defiance of you!"_

_**"That's what you think, foolish primate."**_

_"I am not a stupid monkey! I am not a foolish primate! I am a Prince!"_

_**"A monkey prince of a monkey race, Vegeta. Nothing more."**_

_"My remaining subjects are mightier than you ever were!"_

_**"Subjects? You know that's not true. They don't view you as their Prince."**_

_"Don't try to lie to me, Frieza. They know who I am."_

_**"But one of your own lowly subjects has surpassed you. You're no Prince."**_

_"I am far more of a Prince than you are, Frieza!" _

_**"Oh really? Are you ruthless? Merciless? Like me?"**_

_"I have learned that being a Prince does not require me to be like you, Frieza."_

...

Goku shuddered and removed his hands from his comrade's head.

"He's...he's dreaming about killing Frieza. He's talking with him as he kills him."

"What's he saying?" Krillin inquired, curious.

"Frieza kept calling him a monkey and telling him that he wasn't a Prince, and Vegeta said that he was more of a Prince than Frieza ever was. He said that he didn't have to be like Frieza in order to be a proper Prince. Kind of confusing, actually, since it was happening so fast," Goku admitted.

Turning to Bulma, Goku took on a more serious expression. "You were lying on the ground not far from the battle, and you were dying."

"Dying?" Bulma restated numbly.

"Yeah. I think Frieza must have hurt you, and then..."

"He got mad," Bulma finished Goku's sentence.

"He got mad." Goku affirmed solemnly.

Everyone's gaze jolted toward the bed when Vegeta's scream abruptly halted. The sound of his panting for air filled the room. As abruptly as his scream ended, the Saiyan Prince shot upright, gasping for breath, his eyes bloodshot and strained.

His head jerked around, taking in his surroundings, and his eyes narrowed at the sight of his audience.

"What are you clowns _doing_ in here?" He snapped.

"Worrying about you, Vegeta. You were having a nightmare." Bulma softly explained, drowsiness saturating her voice.

The Prince scoffed in annoyance.

"It's not that bad. So, I had a nightmare. Big deal. It happens."

"Not that bad? Vegeta, you turned Super Saiyan in your sleep!" Bulma protested.

"Kakarrot and his elder brat retained their Super Saiyan forms while they slept in the Room of Spirit and Time, didn't they? During the Cell fiasco?" Vegeta pointed out.

"Yes, but this was different. We were doing it on purpose; you weren't. It's as simple as that." Gohan argued.

"Just get out." Vegeta hissed.

Bulma directed a cautionary glance to the other Z Fighters, who were hesitant to forsake the room. It was currently very early in the morning, and none of them were sure that they would be getting anymore slumber that night.

But, in respect of Vegeta, everyone, including Bulma, exited the bedroom and headed downstairs. The Son males were more than willing to procure a midnight snack for themselves.

After several minutes, the scientist was staring thoughtfully into a swirling cup of steamy chocolate liquid. Dissolving marshmallows bobbed serenely, tracing the sluggish path through the creamy fluid that her spoon had paved.

A delicious _crunch_ echoed through the kitchen as Goku sank his teeth into a plump slice of pickle, the jar containing more of them cradled in his lap. As a chartreuse droplet of juice dribbled down his chin, he swiped it away with the back of his hand.

"Do you think he wants one?" Goku suggested amiably.

Bulma looked up from her hot chocolate, arching an eyebrow. "What?"

"Vegeta, I mean. Maybe he's hungry." Goku gestured to the refrigerator. "There are more jars of pickles in there."

"I don't think food will appease him, Goku." Krillin butted in.

"Does Vegeta have nightmares like that often?" Yamcha questioned Bulma.

She replied, "Sometimes. But none of them are as intense as tonight's."

"Do you think something triggered a more extreme vision?" Yamcha suggested.

"Maybe. But he seemed just fine..." Bulma said, her words fading as she became lost in her thoughts.

Suddenly, she perked up, her cerulean strands of hair bouncing vivaciously. "Hey, I know! After the Cell Games, I decided to see if I could replicate the technology in Future Trunks' time machine. Before Future Trunks went back to his timeline, I asked him about it. He said he was aware of the general concept behind my future counterpart's blueprints."

"And?" Gohan prompted, his eyes alight with the excitement of impending knowledge.

"I've been able to construct something similar to it. I'm still working out a few of the kinks, but all I'll have to do is run a few tests and then it can be used."

"What does this have to do with Dad?" Trunks asked.

"Maybe if I go into the past during Vegeta's years under Frieza, I can see exactly what happened, and maybe I can help him." Bulma responded, grinning brightly. "Besides, I've always wanted to know more about his childhood."

"Wait." Gohan interjected, holding up a warning hand. "This is _Vegeta_ we're talking about. From what I've heard, his childhood wasn't the happiest."

"I know." Bulma replied. "That's why I want to help him."

"But some of us have to go with her, just in case something goes wrong!" Yamcha insisted.

"Okay. The time machine I made is bigger than Future Trunks', and it can fit a total of four people. That means three of you can accompany me. Who wants to go?" Bulma asked.

"I think I'll go," Goku offered eagerly.

"I think I will, too. He's my Dad, after all," Trunks said quickly.

"You know what? I'm itching for adventure. Mind if I ride along?" Krillin proposed.

"Okay, great! The rest of you should stay at Capsule Corporation until we return, so that you will all be able to help us quickly if anything happens. And don't tell Vegeta about this. When he wakes up, just say that the four of us are taking care of something and will arrive back home soon," Bulma instructed.

"But don't you think he'll be annoyed?" Goten ventured warily.

"Of course he will be. He's Vegeta. Now I'm going to go down to the laboratory and check on the time machine. Goku, Trunks, and Krillin, can you pack the snacks? And no eating anything until I get back."

"But what will we-" Gohan pleaded, and sighed when the scientist bounded out of the room with a spring in her step.

Another adventure was about to get underway.

_***Goku's Mask**__- It's inspired by the Flying Nimbus, as you know._

_***Chi-Chi's Mask**__- Hers was harder to do. She's a raven because of her black hair._

_***Vegeta and Bulma's Masks**__- You should know their meanings already._

_***Gohan's Mask**__- Two words: Great Saiyaman._

_***Videl's Mask**__- I just thought "hawk" because she is very astute about things. _

_***Trunks and Goten's Masks**__- Devil horns, obviously. Isn't that perfect?_

_***Bra's Mask**__- I dunno, I just thought of "butterfly" when I was thinking of a mask._

_***Yamcha's Mask**__- Wolf Fang Fist, of course._

_***Krillin's Mask**__- This one's meaning comes from Dragon Ball. In the manga, when Jackie Chun is battling the Man-Wolf, he hypnotized his opponent into thinking that Krillin's head was the moon, and then the Man-Wolf turned back into a man. Hence the moon mask. XD_

_***Android 18's Mask**__- You don't have to be a genius to figure this one out._

* * *

**A/N - I'm sorry if this was too long or confusing. You know the drill. REVIEW, PLEASE! Thanks! I'll try to post the next chapter soon!**


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